


Absolution

by sequence_fairy



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2757110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>absolution: <i>noun</i>. act of absolving; a freeing from blame or guilt; release from consequences, obligations or penalties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolution

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [aornis-hades](http://tmblr.co/mrEuUzC9LyfGskyGe4VcT7A)

Automail surgery, especially with multiple limbs, is a dangerous business. Re-attaching nerves is like firing lightning into your spine, and on a body already weakened by amputation, the shock can be too much.

Even if you survive the initial attachment, your chances of suffering a rejection of the automail limb or catching an infection are high and oftentimes, there’s simply nothing to be done. Anti-rejection therapies have come a long way since automail was first used, but they are not foolproof, and a case of hyper-acute rejection can lead very quickly to death. 

Ed was strong though, Al reasoned, Pinako wouldn’t have allowed the surgery if Ed hadn’t been strong enough to survive it. Al sat, hunched against the wall in the living room, waiting for the Rockbell women to finish giving Ed back his limbs. Winry had worked through the last three days building them, to ensure that Ed would have all the range of movement he was accustomed to, and she had declared them the best pieces she’d ever made.

Ed screamed. His voice echoed through the cozy Rockbell house, and if Al still had a spine, it would have made him shiver. As it was, he still jerked involuntarily, wishing he could cover his ears to block out the sound. He heard Granny’s voice, soothing and firm. There was a brief silence before Ed screamed again. This time it ended in a sob, and Al desperately wanted to go to his brother, but had been banished from the patient room before the surgery began, on account of his being no longer spatially aware of himself in small spaces.

He heard the door to the patient room open and close, and Winry appeared in the hall. She seemed to look through Al as she passed him on her way to the kitchen, and didn’t look up from the sink when he stepped into the room after her. She was pale and her hands shook as she put the kettle on to boil. She reached up, lifting onto her tiptoes to get two mugs from the top shelf.

“Winry?” Al asked, and she jumped, dropping one of the mugs. It shattered on the floor of the kitchen, shards surrounding Winry’s bare feet. “No, don’t move,” Al said, holding out a hand to stop her from stepping on any of the razor sharp pieces of ceramic. “I’ll get it.”

Winry stood carefully still while Al swept the bits of mug into the garbage and didn’t move until he was done.

“I’m sorry,” Al apologized, and Winry nodded, getting another mug down, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay,” Winry whispered.

The kettle whistled.

“Is he –“

“Al, I –“

Winry gestured for Al to go first, “Is Brother going to be okay?” he asked. Winry spooned tea leaves into a strainer hung over the opening of the teapot, then poured the boiling water over them.

“He’s made it through the first of many hurdles,” said Pinako as she came into the kitchen, and sat down at the kitchen table. “The surgery went as well as could be expected. He’s sleeping now. We’ll be able to tell more in the morning.” Al clearly heard the  _if he makes it through the night_  that Pinako didn’t say.

Pinako and Winry shared the pot of tea, neither saying much of anything. Winry was barely awake enough to keep her head from lolling on her shoulders, and once she’d finished her mug, Pinako shooed her off to bed.

“I expect you won’t sleep,” Pinako said, carrying the empty mugs to the sink. “You’re welcome to go up and sit with him.”

Al nodded and turned to leave. He stopped in the doorway, shoulders brushing the door frame with a scrape of steel on wood. Pinako looked up at the sound, weariness evident in the set of her shoulders.

“Granny, I—” Al began, voice cracking. Pinako came around the table and took Al’s hand in both of hers. “I don’t—” Al started, a shaky breath escaping him, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he said, voice shaking. Pinako watched as Al slumped down, the suit of armor sliding to the floor.

“It’s not your fault,” Pinako said firmly, “and it’s not Ed’s either. Neither of you could have known what would happen.”

“We did, though! We did!” Al’s voice was high and wild, hysteria creeping in around the edges.

“We knew exactly what we were doing, and we knew it wasn’t right! Equivalent exchange, Granny! You can’t get something without giving something of equal value in return. What could we possibly have exchanged for a soul?” Pinako took a step back, Al giving voice to a question she’d asked herself the night the boys had appeared on her doorstep.

“It was hopeless from the start,” Al finished. The metal head lifted a fraction, so Pinako could see the burning white-red eyes “I think we always knew it would end up like this.”

Silence.

Pinako could hear Den snoring in the other room.

She let Al’s hand fall from her grip and planted her hands on her hips. “You listen to me, Alphonse Elric,” she began, drawing herself up to her full height. She watched as Al straightened, “You boys, you loved your mother so much, you’d give all of yourselves to bring her back. Love like that, it’s impossible  _not_  to do something to keep it alive.”

“No one pushed us to the transmutation, Granny,” Al protested. “ _We_  drew the circle, learned the sigils and  _we_  gathered the ingredients. This is our fault, no one else’s.”

“Imbecile,” Pinako admonished, and thwacked Al on the top of his metal skull with a wooden spoon, “a child cannot be blamed for the sins of those who raised them. No one stopped you, and we all knew what was happening in that house. If anyone should be blamed, it should be me,” Pinako moved to the kitchen table, and sat down in one of the chairs.

“Al, you and Ed, you’re the sons my Sara never had,” Pinako said, all the confident anger gone out of her voice.  “I’m sorry,” she said, and Al watched, horrified, at the tears that spilled down her face. “I’m so sorry for what you both went through.”

“Granny,” Al said softly, getting slowly to his feet and shuffling towards the table, “Granny.” He reached out and took her hand in his. Pinako leaned onto his shoulder, and Al could do nothing but continue to hold her hand.

Eventually, Pinako straightened. “You go on up to your brother now, he needs you,” she said, letting his hand fall. Al looked down at Pinako, but the old woman didn’t raise her face to meet his gaze. “Go on, Al.”

Al left Pinako in the kitchen, and headed down the hall to where Ed lay sleeping, new automail gleaming in the moonlight. 


End file.
